Imogen
by Kaldrith Lascennie
Summary: When a vampire rescues Imogen from her dead mistress's fortress, he makes her an offer that makes her rethink everything she ever thought about Kindred.
1. Imogen

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of White Wolf, World of Darkness, Mage: The Ascension or Vampire: the Masquerade. Any and all ideas that belong to them are herein noted as such, and I gain no profit from this story. The characters are the only things that belong to me.

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The door crashed open, banging into the wall, and a flashlight burned at my eyes. I think I cried out; I don't quite remember, for my mind was sluggish after the eternity it had spent in the Umbra, seeking respite and hoping for rescue. But rescue does not come easily for one such as I: I who was a fighter for the cause of humanity, I who am a servant, however unwillingly, of that which preys upon the living.

Of that which came upon me now.

"What is this?" echoed a strong voice in the empty cell. My heart skipped a beat. It was a new voice, one I had never heard in all my years of torment.

I felt a cold hand lift my chin, and a head-shaped shadow blocked the light from my eyes. Blood – I could hear the blood pounding in his veins, and I lusted for it, struggled against my chains to reach him. A new voice murmured, "She's a ghoul; most likely Damiana's. The traitor's stench comes from the blood."

All I could think of was his blood, his vampire's blood, the one thing that would continue my existence and deliver me from the pain and darkness. It consumed all sane thought, until I forgot that the last thing I wanted was to be bound to a vampire, that I wanted to be free and human again.

"What shall we do with her, Father?" asked the first voice.

The second voice didn't answer for a while. Then he said, "We shall take her to Calais."

My struggles were weak; I was near death. My lips moved with unheard words, my body pleading for mercy. Then the darkness around me deepened and the light faded as I fell unconscious.

I must admit that I never expected to awaken again. The darkness was so deep that it seemed to swallow me whole, and I fell into its slumber. Yet the slumber faded, and the darkness with it, and when I opened my eyes, I found myself in a world so like that of my adolescence, that I almost believed my captivity as a vampire's ghoul to be an infernally long and ghastly dream.

The room was large and round, and from the chill, it was high in a tower. The stone floor was covered with thick rugs. The walls were lined with bookcases except for two narrow doors, with a large four-poster bed just off-center and a generous desk at its feet. Not only were the bookcases lined with books, but scrolls and potions and potion ingredients occupied many of them. It was almost like I was back in Canada with the Dreamspeakers, learning the ins and outs of my mage abilities.

I crawled out of the bed slowly, testing my strength. Some kind or perverted soul had removed my rags while I was sleeping and replaced them with a warm fleece nightgown. I looked among the books for one of my favorites, and then reality kicked in: these were books on blood-magic, Tremere magic, which no mage-in-training would have in his possession. A shudder ran through my body. So I really was the thrall of a vampire, and for some reason I was still alive, despite my rebellion ...

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise. I didn't expect you to wake up until tomorrow night, at least."

It was the same voice that had identified me as Damiana's ghoul. I blinked, then turned to face him. He was standing in the doorway, dressed in richly colored robes, with curly auburn hair reaching to his shoulders and hazel eyes. His face and bearing were warm and inviting, and for a moment he seemed mortal.

My response was cold and wary. "What do you want from me?"

He raised a brow. "Is there something I should want from you?"

I shrugged. "My life, perhaps? I was quite a monster for Damiana; most Kindred condemn such ghouls to death. So I heard."

"Yet she kept you," he pointed out.

"For her games and pleasure," I dismissed his curiosity.

"She never kept her 'toys' as long as she kept you. Most never survived the experience." Then he waved his hand, and sat at the desk. "But I won't convince you today. Enough about Damiana."

"You never answered my question."

He nodded. "True." He stared at me for a long time then, and I managed to meet his gaze for most of it. Then he said, "I want you to stay here. It's been centuries since a mage would speak with me without reaching for a stake first, and I have sorely missed that. I was a mage once, like you, before I became this. Also like you, I became what I am against my will, and I seek to repay humanity for the losses it serves at my hands."

"I refuse to be Embraced. You would have to bind me to you, if I were to stay and survive," I reminded him sourly. "And I don't like being chained."

He smiled faintly. "All I would require of you is that you keep me company, offer me advice at times, do things that must be done during the day – the usual, without Damiana's eccentricities."

What the hell was he getting at? No vampire wanted simple companionship! And why me? I was a discarded toy, broken and bitter and vengeful. "What if you want me to do something I'm not comfortable with?"

"Then say no, and we'll figure it out."

It was too easy. There was a catch somewhere, there had to be. I regarded him with narrowed eyes and said nothing.

After a long time, he stood and made a little bow. "I will leave you to your thoughts, though don't tarry too long. The Sabbat and the Camarilla both want you for the information you have on Damiana's research, and if the Council of Seven is going to help me keep you from them, I need your answer as soon as possible. If you have need of me, don't hesitate to call my name. It's Amadé."

With that, he turned and left me with the largest paradox I'd ever encountered in my life.

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Please R this is my first fanfic, so I'd appreciate honest feedback. Thanks!! Kaldrith


	2. Decision

Once again, I claim nothing that doesn't belong to me. See earlier chapter for full disclaimer.

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What wish could I have to stay here? I hated the Kindred more than I hated the Technocracy, and they'd visited a few horrors upon me and my comrades, as well as destroying chantry after chantry with intense precision. We stayed nowhere for long, for we never knew when they would descend upon us, technological devices spewing death at us. I thought they were the greatest enemy, for mages—even self-deceived ones—have great imagination. The Technocrats especially must have great imagination, because they have to mold technology and science to mask their use of magic from themselves. If they followed the Traditions, now, and didn't put limits on what their magic could do, they would be powerful indeed.

It never occurred to me that vampires could have just as strong, if not stronger, imaginations. I thought their wisdom and intelligence stagnated and spoiled in their brains with age. That disastrous mistake led me to fall for Damiana's trap, which led to a powerful blood bond and an eternity of torture.

A wave of dark hatred soaked my soul the instant I thought of the blood bond, so brutal that it jolted me. To be so submerged in that loathing, and with no hint of the obsessive love induced by a blood bond, surprised me to no end. Did this mean that I was free from her? And if I was free from her, she would have to be dead. She told me as much, that I would be hers forever until one of us died.

I sighed to myself. So I was free from her.

But what about this Amadé? He struck me as ... odd ... for a Kindred. What vampire concerned himself with the playthings of the vampires he conquered? Perhaps he was impressed that I was still alive, even though she hadn't given me blood for months and my body was aging more and more every day. Perhaps it was simply that I did know about Damiana's forbidden research, for I'd been a rather large player in that experiment and was deeply intimate with the powers she was trying to forge.

Or perhaps he truly was merely seeking company from a former mage, someone to guard the lonely nights with. He didn't strike me as the sort of man who interacted with others often; maybe kept a few servants around to run the castle during the day, emailed his sire once every few weeks.

All I knew for sure was that he had taken me from Damiana's dungeon, he had given me vitae, he had placed me in a comfortable room, and he had given me the choice to go where I desired.

I twisted a finger around a strand of my curly brown hair, hair that she had given me. The shape I wore was not the shape of my mortal life. I was uncannily skinny as a mortal mage, with dull brown eyes, a long and sharp face, and thin, straight black hair. My air was distant, my eyes glassy even when I wasn't looking for spirits. I had visions of changing the world, of bringing doubt to the Technocracy's theories. I believed anything could happen.

No longer did I look so imperfect, so mortal. I was shorter, a little more flesh added to my bones so that I was slightly plump. My face was heart-shaped, my eyes a vibrant green, my hair an abundance of chestnut curls. Her favorite shape for me, the young innocent to rend soul and body.

Nor was I a visionary. I was suspicious of everything and everyone, and I seldom used my powers, for the spirits were hostile to me now. I believed in no one and nothing. The past was an artist's palette of nightmares, the present bewildering, and the future as dark as night. All I wanted was to be rid of this curse, to return to my Dreamspeaker chantry in Vancouver, and to forget about this nightmare.

It was impossible, even though my blood bond was finally shattered. They would never recognize me, if they existed anymore. And I would forever require some sort of vitae, if I planned to survive any longer. I didn't know how long Damiana had kept me, but in that dungeon, as I starved for blood, I watched and felt my body sink in upon itself and develop pain in the joints and the muscles. My voice grew quavery and cracked, my bones brittle. No, I had been a ghoul for so many years that my life wouldn't last long if I were to leave.

Not to mention the great powers-that-be, the Camarilla and the Sabbat, demanding that I turn over what I knew of Damiana's research. If I left, they would forever follow me, and my last months in the world wouldn't be the peaceful ones I craved.

I sighed again. I had never really had a choice. The peace I craved was here at the price of my humanity. Still, he had promised to let me remain myself. He offered me freedom and companionship. He offered me a future, the only future I had.

I would stay here.

My shoulders felt lighter once I'd made my decision. Ironic, I thought. I'd spent most of my captivity swearing that I'd have nothing to do with Kindred if I ever escaped. Well, I had escaped, and I was going to spend the rest of my life here, in the home of a vampire who had chanced trusting a bitter and much-abused ghoul. I wondered for a moment if my sanity had slipped.

Grinning at myself, I moved away from the bookcase, and walked toward the second door, the one Amadé hadn't come through. It led to a small terrace facing west. To my right was the sea, glittering silver under the full moon, splashing up to a smooth shore beneath a cliff's brow. Trees blanketed the landscape up to the cliff's edge, swaying a little in the wind. To my far left, the stone wall curved to meet another, which stretched as far as I could see. I smiled a tiny, true smile. Such a sanctuary, far from the noise and politics of the cities, filled with books I could learn from for the rest of my life. Even if this was captivity, it was a captivity I could endure.

Suddenly I remembered Amad's admonition that there wasn't much time. I flew back through the door and out the one he'd departed from. The door opened into a short and narrow hallway, which intersected another hall and continued to a closed door a few feet ahead of me. Briefly, I glanced to either side, then went right and followed it for about ten feet. At that point, a staircase leading downward met the hallway, and I paused there. I didn't want to go downstairs; this place was so large that I might get lost. He had said to call his name and he would come, but how would he hear me?

Well, Damiana had done more fantastical things in her domain. I took a breath, and called out tentatively, "Amadé?"

"I'm here," came his voice, slightly muffled. A door opened behind me, and he stepped into the doorframe, his attention focused entirely on me. "What do you need?"

Kindness aside, he was still Kindred, and his presence radiated it. It was like a heavy smell bombarding my senses, and I couldn't speak for a moment. Then I shook my head slightly, retreating behind my shell of cold, formal suspicion. I told him quietly, "I've made my decision, and I thought I should tell you before I run out of time."

He blinked at me in astonishment, then grinned broadly and cheerfully, which almost melted the ice around my heart. Almost. "Again, you quite surprise me!" he exclaimed. "First, you wake before you should, then you take a mere hour and a half to make a decision that will change your life forever!" His smile faltered slightly. "Are you sure you don't need more time?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm sure."

"It wouldn't be wise to be hasty in this," he warned me quietly. "They will wait a week, they assured me. Are you sure you don't have any questions or concerns at all?"

"Well, I do," I admitted, "but they don't have to do with my decision. I assure you that more time won't change my mind."

His eyes met mine for a few moments, then he nodded. "Very well. What is your decision?"

"I will stay here," I said, "with you."

I had seen Damiana in fits of joy, but hers was nothing compared to Amad's. For one thing, her joy always sent me into spasms of horror. His joy, though, was as pure as the ocean. His face lit up like the sun, and it seemed for all the world like he was getting the one thing that he'd always wanted. It amazed me that a ghoul like me could provoke such a response from a vampire. I wondered for a moment what I had done, what it was about me, that he wanted so much.

He held out his hand to me. "Come," he beckoned me, "come and sit with me. There are a few hours left until the sun rises. Please, share them with me."

I followed him into the room. This room was lined with bookshelves on the east wall to my right, but the rest of the walls bore heavy French tapestries, a little dusty and faded. The lamps perched from the wall glowed a moderate light, adequate for reading. In the middle of the room was a large, low square table, and around it were arranged a couch and a few arm chairs. He invited me to sit with a gesture of his hand, and I took one of the arm chairs, sitting tentatively, trying not to betray my confusion.

He sat on the couch, nearest me, and he offered, "Before I answer your questions, I have one that merits an answer, and then you may have the floor and ask all the questions you please."

I allowed the barest ghost of a smile, then invited him to proceed.

"What is your name?" he asked, a glimmer of excitement in his eye.

I blinked at him, astonished that he hadn't stolen the knowledge from my mind. I had to stop forgetting that he wasn't anything like Damiana! "My name is Imogen," I answered plainly.

"Imogen," he repeated to himself, quietly, as if tasting the name. As soon as he said my name, the ice melted around my heart, and I knew without a doubt that I would never regret this decision.

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irenadel: Thanks for your superb review! I trust that I delivered a little better this time around. A bit long, but my muse was very happy and wouldn't shut up. :) Yes, you're right about Damiana, but that doesn't come for another chapter or two. And as you can probably tell, this story is growing all by itself, so don't be surprised if it goes on a while longer. I have a lot of ideas bouncing around in my head for Imogen.

All the rest of you, reviews please! I can't know if I'm doing a good job if you don't talk to me!

Kaldrith


	3. Why?

Again, not mine, except the characters. And for goodness' sake, people, send me reviews! I almost forgot about poor Imogen. :) Thanks to those of you who did.

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"So," he invited, "ask away." 

"Why is Clan Tremere interested in keeping me safe? No, not safe," I amended, "rather, as if I were a precious commodity?"

Amadé smiled sourly. "To them, you are a precious commodity. Remember, the Tzimisce and the Tremere have long been in competition with one another, with magic being the chief subject of that competition. And now Damiana, one of the most powerful Tzimisce, is survived by one of her ghouls – which is extremely rare for Tzimisce. Even more rare is a ghoul who isn't frightened that her former master's ghost won't rise from the grave to haunt her."

I shook my head. "No, what I am afraid of are her allies."

"Whom you no longer have to fight alone and defenseless," he added.

I smiled wanly. I was also terrified of him, my new master, for he carried potential to hurt me. I didn't believe he would hurt me as badly as Damiana had, for his manner toward me was decidedly different – but he was still a vampire, and a powerful one. He had recognized my position for what it was, and had placed me squarely where he wanted me to be. I assumed he wanted me for Damiana's secrets as well.

But assumptions are never good for the soul, as I had learned well. I wanted to hear what he would say.

"Why did you take me from the dungeon, bring me here and back to life? Furthermore, why do you wish to protect me and keep me as your own? It's not like I've proven myself or anything, and someone in my position should have a lot to prove."

"Well," he mused, pursing his lips thoughtfully, "in a way, you have already proven yourself. As you know, we Tremere have many thaumaturgical paths, and not just the blood rituals. My mentor, while he specializes in the blood path, follows another path that's not unlike the spirit sphere in magery."

I paled, but nodded my understanding. "I'd heard of the spirit thaumaturgy. An old friend of mine said that through it, vampires can bind spirits to them or to objects."

"That is only some of it," he continued. "As in mortal magick, a thaumaturge may walk the Umbra and speak with the spirits within. Many war with the spirits and force them to speak, but others, like my mentor, prefer to make allies of them and trade information. Many spirits wander around places or people they once knew or have since grown attached to. One, in particular, attached himself quite firmly to you, and when Damiana found you and made you hers, he sought someone who would free you from her. It is because of him that we were able to find Damiana, and in exchange for that information, we were to try and find you, and bring you into safety if we could."

That a spirit would interceded on my behalf was quite astounding to me, since they hadn't contacted me for years, and refused to speak to me before then. So my eyes widened, and I blurted, "Who was the spirit?"

He smiled softly. "He gave us the name Lannoris."

Lannoris. The first spirit to approach me and encourage me through my magic, he had been the first to disappear. In fact, I hadn't been able to find him the whole time I was Damian's captive. I had believed that he'd decided I was beyond all saving, like the others, but now that he was behind my rescue and the complete destruction of my captor, I wondered.

He took up his train of thought again. "My mentor and I organized a hunting party, comprised of we two and several of our most trusted allies. Upon our arrival, Damiana and her compatriots drew us into heavy battle, much of which I missed." An intense, bemused expression creased his face. "When I stepped into her fortress, I felt something drawing me, and it seemed that if I couldn't find it, and soon, then my very soul would rip from my body and chase after this insatiable need. My childer followed me into the dungeons, where I took the keys from the guard, and proceeded to open every cell until I'd found whatever was calling me. Every single one of them held rotting corpses, piles of ashes in odd shapes, everything dead."

He looked up at me, and his eyes sparked piercingly. "And then there was you. You were still alive, just barely. The moment I saw you, I knew it was you that was calling me. I brought you here, and helped you back to life, and until you said you'd stay with me, I haven't had a moment's peace."

Of all his revelations, this was the least surprising to me. At the very mention of his need, I felt a sharp tug within myself, as if a part of me had left my body and settled within him, leaving a solid trail behind it. Whether or not he was my blood-bound master, I was bound to him, and he to me.

Astonishingly enough, this didn't terrify or irritate me. In fact, I felt more comfortable than I had ever been in my life.

The door swung open, and a young man strode in. "Excuse me, ma'am, Father, but Angelique's here. She says the Council of Seven demands an answer, and quickly."

Amadé's face hardened into an angry mask. He rose from the couch, excused himself, and stalked out the room. I stood a little uncertainly, staring after him.

The young man turned to me with a shy smile, and held out his hand. "I'm Rhiannys," he introduced himself simply. "I'm one of Amadé's childer."

Rhiannys was a little taller than me, with thick blond hair, bright blue eyes, and an honest face. I took his hand, tentatively concluding that I liked him. "My name is Imogen."

He released my hand, and followed my gaze in the direction that his sire had gone. "Everything will be all right," he soothed my unspoken worries. Then again, I suppose my pounding heart betrayed me. "Even if they require your presence tonight, he will stand with you."

"Why?" I asked absently.

Rhiannys blinked at me. "Because that's what he does."

"Oh," I murmured softly.

Amadé returned in a flurry of anger and resignation, accompanied by a doll-like woman who shared the intensity of his expression. "I know you hate it, Amadé," she was saying, "but you know you can't deny them, even if you did ensure the demise of one of the worst enemies of the clan. With the knowledge she carries, she's worth twenty Damianas if you expect them to leave her without picking her skull clean!"

"I know, Angelique," he murmured through clenched teeth. His fists hung balled at his side, and his eyes held a raging ire. "I know too well. I only protest, because she has only woken tonight! She is hardly fit to stand their questioning."

Angelique's face softened ever so slightly. "I understand, my friend, but it doesn't matter. They have called, and she must go." She turned to me. "Surely you understand."

I nodded. "You can't deny the Tremere intelligence, especially when it has to do with Tzimisce koldunism." I walked to Amadé, and looked up into his eyes. They were dark and ominous, like the clouds that spawn a tornado, and I shuddered at the thought of being the object of his rage. I spoke his name softly. "I'll be fine," I told him. "I won't fight them; I don't really care one way or another if they have her unfinished magic."

He shook his head. "They will still torment you, squeeze your mind dry, until there is nothing left in you that they don't know. And the Camarilla and the Sabbat will do the same. One such interview is difficult to endure, but three … I wonder if you will still come back to me as Imogen, and not an empty shell."

I smiled wanly. "If I survived all those years with Damiana, I will survive the powers that be. But I must go."

"And I will come with you," he insisted, that dark look back in his eyes.

I suppressed the shiver crawling up my spine. "Yes, you will."


	4. Summons

Angelique nodded once. "Very well, then," she remarked with an aloof air. "I will carry your answer to the Council. You will receive travel plans within the week. Until then, Amadé, pleasant nights to you, and to you, Rhiannys." She crooked a finger under the younger vampire's chin, which he batted away with a scowl. She grinned frostily at him. "Don't say I never wished a blessing upon you, childe."

Then she turned her hard eyes to me, and her smile vanished. "If I were you, ghoulling, I'd run and hide and die the lonely death of starvation, because Damiana's cruelty is nothing compared to the ruthlessness of the Seven. And don't think that your hatred or your cooperation will earn you any sort of reprieve." Her glance flicked ever so briefly to Amadé. "No decent vampire trusts another vampire's ghouls, especially if she betrays her master's secrets. They will pick your skull clean before they determine what you really know, and when they are dissatisfied, they'll break your spirit to pieces. It'll be years before you can be of any use to Amadé, provided that he keeps you that long."

Throughout her speech, Amadé's demeanor blackened until I no longer recognized him. His face was twisted in a grotesque scowl, his hands clenched into tight fists, and his body trembled with rage. Only Rhiannys' hand on his arm held him back from shredding Angelique to bits on the spot. Several times, he opened his mouth to speak, but Rhiannys squeezed him, and he forbore.

And when she finished speaking, I had her initial impression of me: weak, traitorous, and unworthy of one such as Amadé. I could not refute her, for I felt the same way. I was terrified at the idea of facing the Tremere Council. I hated the idea of giving the information to someone who would abuse it. And I could never, if I lived for the rest of eternity, repay Amadé for his kindness toward me.

With this in mind, I lowered my eyes, and gave her the only thing that she might approve of. "I understand, madame. I do know, however, that until my spirit heals, it can't be damaged much more than it already has. I also know that I have no choice in the matter, so I will face what I must face, and I will hope that I'll come away with enough pieces to put myself back together again."

She blinked quickly for a moment, then some of her hostility disappeared. "Courage," she murmured under her breath. "And strength. You will need both, child." She bade farewell to Amadé and Rhiannys, then left us gaping after her at the balustrade.

I asked, "So, truly a week before they come for me?"

Amadé shrugged. "It depends on where the Council is themselves, whether or not they have other business that needs to be finished first. It may come in the morning, it may come in two weeks. They love to be unpredictable."

This was dire news indeed, for it signified that though they knew about Damiana's research, they didn't know its nature or purpose. But there were certain figures that occurred many times in my memory, figures that could only be Tzimsce, that knew, and they would follow evey path relentlessly until they found me. I had no clue as to their powers or positions, nor even their names, but my imagination filled in the blanks quite nicely, and it wasn't long before I was near panic.

"How protected is this place?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

My master raised a brow. "It is protected enough," came the vague reply.

Needless to say, it did nothing to stifle my fears. I swallowed hard, and gripped the balustrade to steady my trembling hands. "Enough to stave off the Sabbat?"

He blinked at me. "I should hope so," he responded coldly, "else I wouldn't have survived in this place. I am relatively isolated and have no allies in this country, and have enemies strong enough to be a knife in my side now and again. It's not invulnerable by any means, but there are escape routes and measures for every eventuality. Why are you afraid?"

I smiled bitterly. "I'm afraid, because no one except for me and at least three other Tzimisce knows what Damiana was trying to do. Her research was spurned by her clan, expressly forbidden by some zhupans. I don't know how powerful or well-connected these people are, but they will guard her secrets zealously, and they will do all they can to make sure I never tell anyone what she was doing."

Amadé exchanged a glance and a thought with Rhiannys. "What _was_ she doing?"

If I didn't survive the week, at least someone would know. "She was trying to create a koldunic path that mimicked Vicissitude. The goal was to have the fleshcrafting ability of Vicissitude with more creative possibilities and without rituals or spilled blood."

Amadé's surprise was twisted with horror rather than confusion, and relief washed over me. I didn't have to waste more time explaining koldunism or what a fleshcrafting koldunic path could mean. Surely even I didn't know all it could mean.

"Rhiannys, please have Celeste make the usual preparations for travel to London, then pack for a week and help Imogen pack as well. Then run into town and have papers made up for her; we'll pick them up on the way to the airport." Amadé dismissed him with a flick of a wrist, then turned to me. "Everything in that room is yours. Take whatever you want with you; we'll be gone for quite some time, I imagine, at least until we can get your information passed and the rest of your enemies destroyed. Be quick; we'll be leaving in a matter of hours."

I caught his sleeve as he turned from me. "Where are we going?"

He blinked, then grinned grimly. "To get the attention of the Council, of course."

He turned and rushed away, and two hours later, we were speeding down the highway into the city, struggling with all our might to look like an innocuous trio of people rushing to a frantic emergency in England. It's funny how we can blend so perfectly into human society that no human places us as strange, but a vampire can pick us out in an instant. Nothing amiss occurred at Calais, but we were noticed, and plans were made. When we arrived in London, they would be waiting for us.

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Sorry it's been so long. I killed my computer and then wasn't quite sure how I wanted the plotline to unfold. So, enjoy, and next chapter's coming soon.

Thanks for all your reading and comments.

Kaldrith


	5. Torran

We let all the other passengers exit the plane ahead of us when we landed. We carried no weapons and wore no armor, and I was so frightened that I was trembling while we walked down the aisle and through the causeway. Rhiannys walked in front of me, and Amadé walked behind me. He placed a hand on my shoulder as we passed through the causeway, and he murmured, "Trust us." I took a deep breath and stilled my body, and in the next moment, we passed through the gate.

There were eight of them standing in a semicircle around the door. Their bodies were twisted into odd humanoid forms covered with bulging and mottled skin, but their neatly tailored business suits suggested that for this occasion, at least, they would assert themselves with cool logic instead of their favored mysticism. They were Tzimisce, and they were unfamiliar to me. I breathed a little easier.

One of them inclined its head, and addressed us. "We come for what is ours," came a crisp voice, and its owner extended a clawed appendage at me.

I was surprised when Rhiannys answered, "The blood speaks otherwise."

Its eyes darkened. "Her blood belongs to one of ours."

"Her blood belongs to me now," Amadé replied, his voice as dark as theirs.

All of them stiffened in disgust. The speaker snarled, "By what right?"

Amadé's voice grew infinitely colder. "By death rights. I took Damiana's life, therefore anything I wished of her possessions is mine by right. This ghoul's blood is bound to mine. She no longer belongs to the Tzimisce clan in any manner."

Another voice, like wind whispering through dead leaves, protested, "What she knows could injure us dearly. We require the destruction of that knowledge. We require her death."

Every Tzimisce shifted, slipping into defensive or offensive stances, reaching for weapons we could not see. Amadé whispered his childe's name, and Rhiannys closed his eyes. Instantly a wall of flames erupted behind the Tzimisce, and before they could pull themselves out of _rötscherk_, another wall rose in front of them. When the flames died, all that was left of them were their ashes and the echoes of their screams.

A quiet chuckle met my ears, startling me out of shock. Out of the darkness, a middle-aged man walked toward us. He looked the very image of an old-fashioned English businessman, dressed in an ivory suit complete with a pocketwatch on a gold chain. His hair was graying, and his belly bulged a little over his belt. As a human, his face would have been heavily wrinkled, but it was smooth and soft, and his spectacles would have actually served his ice-blue eyes a purpose instead of being purely ornamental. As a vampire, he was the perfect hunter who set his prey at ease before it could realize that it was the main course for dinner.

His laugh was warm as he surveyed the piles of ashes on the ground. "Not very politic of you, Rhiannys," he chided gently.

Rhiannys grinned. "That's why I left the ashes. They will return to their normal selves, in time."

The stranger chuckled. "True enough. I will see to it that they are transported back to their elders. My carpet," and he raised an eyebrow at Amadé, "will have to be replaced."

Amadé shrugged. "This is why I warned you, Torran. I knew there would be trouble, and it would affect your business or personal routines."

Torran tossed a hand into the air. "So you did. No matter, then, I'm sure that I told someone to take care of it. Now, so this is Damiana's legacy?"

He turned his focus on me, and his eyes glittered with cold, calculating interest. He was, all in all, a businessman. He carried the air of someone who views the world in a code of numbers, profit and loss, supply and demand. His eyes shifted to Amadé, and a slight flicker of warmth lit up in them.

Amadé's hands came to rest on my shoulders. "Yes, she is, and to all knowledge, she is also the most vital possession Damiana left behind."

The Englishman nodded absently. "Which means that there will be trouble all the way home. No matter; we can bypass that, and go for a holiday in the country. If you would come this way?"

We followed him through the sparsely populated airport, and out to the exits. A bright blue SUV with darkly tinted windows waited for us. A driver in a plain business suit waited beside it, and reached to open the door as we approached him. The driver greeted Torran, and a brief conversation ensued which went beyond mere English custom. The words were spoken without thought, but were received with much concentration. It seemed to me that both the driver and the vampire gave each other fixed responses to fixed questions to verify each other's identities. It was very clever; to all outward appearances, it was a very friendly conversation between a gentleman and his driver.

Torran introduced us to the driver, then invited us to climb in. As we settled ourselves, my eyes met Torran's, and they knew what I had thought, and they were amused.

As the SUV pulled away, Torran turned to Amadé. "Your call truly could not have come at a more opportune moment. I had just ended a call in which Loraine McGoran herself informed me that the Council does not take Damiana's research as a serious threat and requested that I interview Imogen to determine precisely what she knows before they waste their valuable time Scrying her brain. So you can imagine my own shock when you called and briefed me that the threat is indeed serious."

Amadé nodded firmly. "Yes. If the Tzimisce manage to complete her research and make it a reality, they could subjugate or destroy the Camarilla and the Sabbat. Not only that, but this research would bring them perilously close to a true grasp of magic. Not blood magic, Torran, true magic."

Torran's face became very grim. "Well, at that point, they could take over the world. I should consider that a very great threat indeed." Then he turned his attention to me, and I felt for a moment what it would feel like if a giant had become very displeased with me. His power was massive, and it hung over me like a heavy cloud.

"You will tell me about every interaction you had with Damiana. You will not leave out a single word, detail, fact, or theory." His eyes glinted harshly. "When you have told me everything, I will Scry your brain myself, and gather what you would have missed in your torment."

I nodded. I whispered, "I belonged to Damiana for a very, very long time."

Torran said, "We will go over it all."


End file.
